


True Romance

by squirrelsruntheworld



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Dasey - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirrelsruntheworld/pseuds/squirrelsruntheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She likes that he's not gentle but that he can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Romance

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time posting and the characterization is off, for sure, but of course these kinds of things wouldn't happen. I'm rusty..

"Let's make love." 

He coos the last word gently in her ear, with her hair tickling against the smirk settling on his lips. He knows how much it irritates her to call it that. 

Because it's not love, it’s sex and pleasure; there is nothing more to it. 

At least that’s what they tell themselves when the alcohol becomes less and less necessary the more and more the sex and makeouts occur to addle their brains. Their bodies have become too needy for something trivial as romance under the guise of liquor. 

Casey’s blue eyes take a tentative glance to the couple locked together on the couch as the movie they chose continues on the screen in front of them. Derek catches her gaze and cocks his head to the side, silently gesturing her to move away from their friends passionate makeout session.

“Trust me, they won’t notice we’re gone,” he says as he leads her down the hallway to his bedroom. Not that it mattered if Sheldon or Emily did notice at this point. There was an unspoken agreement to not bring up their affairs after Emily caught Casey with a giant hickey on the back of her neck; something sloppy and heated Derek left one evening while they fooled around in the backseat of his car. 

Casey sighs, somewhat envying her friend and her sensible relationship. Sheldon was everything a boyfriend should be. So thoughtful and loving and nice. She shrugs off her cardigan as the brunet locks his door. As soon as she tosses it onto the bed his hands have found her waist. His long and nimble fingers slide beneath the band of her skirt that hugs at her hips and drops her floral print to the floor. She decides she doesn’t really need ‘nice’. And she would never call Derek her boyfriend. Never. 

“Did you have to wear so many layers?” he mutters as she unravels the scarf from around her neck.

“It was cold today,” Casey says pointedly, “and I didn’t think I’d be coming over tonight.”

She knew. And she did her damnedest to make sure he noticed every curve and dip of her body through those layers regardless, thinking of how he would have to peel off every last one. Her sheer leggings melt into the darkness of the room and the underwear she dons is brand new; black and lacy with the clasp in the front of her bra. Casey hardly ever adorns herself in dark colors.

Spinning her around in his arms, he lays her against the mess of his bed and tugs off the leggings as if they personally offend him. Unbuckling his own jeans, he kicks them from his feet as he joins her on the soft mattress. He presses her mouth against his, his lips suddenly sticky with her gloss. He is eager to get straight to the point. He has been ever since that third bottle of beer and the way he watched Casey sit entirely demure on the loveseat by herself. Her legs stretched beneath the shortest skirt he’s ever seen her wear and his imagination ran wild.

Their engagements started out innocent. One too many drinks led to sloppy kisses in someone's backyard long after the party died down. It happened more than once with the desires becoming stronger each time the booze did. Vodka and rum led to kissing, whiskey led to hands straying towards normally forbidden places and tequila led straight to oral in locked bathrooms. Casey makes sure to wear skirts on those nights because it ends up being one of Derek's favorite things to do and who's got time for jeans when the tongue always delivering slick insults can be preoccupied with other more important matters?

Derek's hands are wandering now, up and under the designer shirt that she chose because of it's low neck line. He bunches the fabric up against the curve of her breasts, taking a moment to lean down and run his lips over the soft of her skin.

"New bra?" he comments, voice rough as he finally pulls the thin article of clothing over her head and she nods, containing a small smile and feeling secretly pleased that he noticed. 

His fingers dabble with the clasp finding it extremely easier to pop than normal bras. She lays still, the cold air of the room brushing against her chest as his eyes roam appreciatively over her exposed form. One hand covers her breast as his tongue dips down and teases warm, wet swirls over the other. She lets out a soft moan as she squirms beneath him. Her hands reach up and dig through his auburn colored hair, encouraging him closer.

She still doesn't know why she let him do it the first time but maybe it was the whiskey diluted with all those sugars that allowed him to touch her. Maybe that, combined with the fact he had been smooth and undemanding the way the tips of his fingers slid over her body soft as feathers, as if he could pinpoint all the sensitive spots that made her wriggle in ways beyond her control. It doesn’t matter much now, because she keeps letting him. Keeps wanting him to.

Her carefully chosen outfit is discarded in piles on the floor along with his. Slipped between her legs, he fucks her hard and she has to bite into the fluff of his pillow to contain her moaning as his hands cup over her breasts, squeezing gently with each thrust and gyration.

She likes that he's not gentle but that he can be.  
….

There’s no romance to this relationship, she knows that; has given up all hope of it. Derek can hardly stop being him and they’re bickering most of the time they’re sober. But it’s all she has and all she wants and sometimes he says the right thing.

"Next time, we'll do it in my car, or get a hotel room."

She crinkles her nose, "Why's that?"

"You're less shy when you know no one can hear you." He comes up behind her as she's clasping her bra back together and kisses her neck before she has a chance to cover up that creamy complexion he tastes so often.

"And I like the way you scream my name," he murmurs against her skin, leaving kisses down her shoulder.

"Oh, shut up." She can't help but blush heavily as she turns away from him to finish dressing.

He chuckles and tosses her lace underwear over her head. With an indignant huff she snatches it off her sex tousled hair and slides them back on without a word.


End file.
